An Indian girl was standing in front of Dell. The newcomer had a catamount skin over her back and a knife in the uplifted hand. Dell, it was plain, had been startled by the Indian girl’s appearance—as well she might be; and no less by her appearance than by the fierce hostility that gleamed in her black eyes.
In three leaps the scout gained the level and had grasped the Indian girl’s uplifted arm.
“Wah-coo-tah!” thundered Buffalo Bill; “what does this mean?”
The Indian girl stared into the scout’s face, and her upraised arm slowly dropped. As the scout’s grip relaxed, she drew away a step, and a soft look came into her eyes.
“Pa-e-has-ka,” she murmured, “why you come here? You no want um mine—know um no good. You want um Lawless, but you no ketch um. Lawless kill Pa-e-has-ka, all same.”
“Wah-coo-tah,” asked the scout, “where are my pards, Nomad and Wild Bill?”
“Lawless got um.”
“That’s what I supposed; but where has Lawless taken them?”
“All same secret level.”
“Are they in any immediate danger?”